


That Gut Feeling...

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 11:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Illya and Napoleon travel to East Berlin to investigate the disappearances from around the world of agents from different agencies. Illya must deal with an adversary from his Survival School days as well as his feelings about Harry Beldon...his former mentor at U.N.C.L.E.





	That Gut Feeling...

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expanded/rewritten chapter from my story "The East Berlin Affair" posted for the Great Episode Challenge on Section VII- Live Journal

**Prompt 1** : When Lisa Rogers tells Illya to report to Harry Beldon, she says, “You'll have to expect him to be somewhat, uh—.” Illya replies, “I've worked with Harry Beldon. I know what to expect.” So the question arises…What are Illya’s previous experiences working with Beldon?

 

 

  
  


Napoleon and Illya arrived via Pan American World Airways on board a Douglas DC-8  from JFK to the Berlin-Tegel airport located northwest of the city. It had a short runway and was limited to a small number of carriers who could land there, so they were lucky being able to get a direct flight, rather than transferring at Frankfurt and taking a small local flight to Berlin.

The two agents  took a cab from the airport  and arriving at the West Berlin headquarters later in the evening; they headed directly to Harry Beldon’s  office, as he was expecting them.

Glancing around the room at the same oversized palms and ferns,interspersed with marble Grecian statuary of naked women, gazing with lifeless eyes...one might wonder if they would convert to weapons, with gun barrells suddenly appearing from their carved breasts. The  paintings on the wall and furnishing were eclectic, and similar to the ones that had adorned the man’s space in London, Illya felt compelled to comment.

“Harry you really need to update your interior designs...perhaps I could offer some suggestions as sometimes _minimalism_ can often bring tranquility to the mind...perhaps a little Zen influence?”

Beldon rose, a glass of brandy in his hand from the gold and burgundy brocaded divan that was located not far from his large carved dark oak desk.  By the size of it, Napoleon wondered if Harry was compensating for something...

He was dressed in a richly embroidered robe with a fur lined collar as he’d just finished using his steam room; its cleverly disguised entrance leading directly from the back of Harry’s offic

Harry spared no expense when it came to his comforts, and that included bedding women, both married and single. He lavished them with gifts and liquor, and Illya supposed they tolerated him in order to reap those benefits...that or Harry was really really good in bed.  The thought of Beldon naked gave Kuryakin the shivers as he found the image most unappealing.

“How très drôle Illya, I see you haven’t lost your dry sense of humor.” said Beldon.”It’s good to see you, as it’s has been a long time, and you Napoleon, I hope you have been keeping well?”

The two agents seated themselves in the chairs directly in front of Beldon’s oversized oak desk, and Napoleon immediately pulled out a file from his briefcase.

Napoleon did not answer Harry, as he still bore some resentment of his treatment by Beldon in London nine months earlier.*

“We are here to discuss an ongoing investigation being run out of this office, it’s in regard members of the intelligence and law enforcement communities that have gone missing recently.”

“Napoleon,” Harry clicked his tongue a few times. “Right to business. I think Illya has rubbed off on you a little bit? You’re not even allowing me at least an informal gesture or two before...how you say in America, getting down to brass tacks? May I offer you a drink? Scotch on the rocks as I recall was your poison of choice and Illya of course vodka... I have a bottle of Stolichnaya? Or would either of you prefer Napoleon brandy?”

Beldon brandished a sly smile upon saying that...

Illya waved his hand declining the the offer and simply folded his arms across his chest sitting back to observe.

Napoleon took Harry up on his offer on the brandy and when drinks were in hand he raised his glass in a toast...

“To _Strum und Drang_.”

“Ah yes, storm and stress... Goethe,”smiled Beldon, quoting Faust in return,” _You may find him everywhere, when others dance, he’s got to criticize and if he fails to criticize a step, that step might just as well have not been taken.”_

“Or perhaps then a toast to transcendence and enlightenment?” He added.

Illya suddenly spoke up, quoting Faust as well. _“But art is long and our life is fleeting...”_

“Yes, Illya leave it to you to remain grounded in human knowledge instead of looking to gain the divine!” Harry said.

Illya paraphrased Faust again in answer, _”Alas, I have studied...yet here I am a wretched fool no wiser than I was before.”_

Finally Harry switched direction.” So shall we get down to business then gentlemen. What can I do to be of assistance?”

“The list of people who have gone missing, have their backgrounds been analyzed?” asked Solo.

Harry pulled a file from his desk drawer. “There are thirty five individuals identified, actually thirty six adding the C.I.A. operative who disappeared in Frankfurt yesterday. It includes members of MI6, Interpol, Scotland Yard, the C.I.A. the American N.I.S. and F.B.I. French, Spanish, Austrian, Italian, Hong Kong, Filipino secret intelligences, Australian ASIS, Israeli Mossad, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Brazil,Chile, Cuba, KGB, GRU, Stasi, even Vatican security has been affected. The list goes on…”

He dropped the thick file on the desk in front of Napoleon, but after putting his tinted reading glasses on, it was Illya who picked it up and began to read. He scanned through it quickly; the list read like a who’s who in the world of law enforcement, security, intelligence and counterintelligence.

“Each one of these thirty six individuals is a key figure with their organizations, and was working on important investigations in their specific arenas. The knowledge they possess could help bring down any number of key operations around the world, not to mention their respective organizations,” said the Russian.

“My source has indicated that the person responsible for these kidnappings is going to put these people up for auction, going to the highest bidder,” said Napoleon,” so obviously the motivation is money for him or her.”

“Really?” said Harry with a sly smile,” interesting, I had not heard that...and what may I ask is your source?

“Sorry, that’s confidential.” Solo smiled back at him.

“I find it interesting,” Illya interrupted looking up from the file,”there are no agents from our organization who have gone missing.”

“Is that so...I hadn’t noticed” shrugged Beldon.

Illya dropped the file back on the desk with deliberateness. He sensed Harry was being evasive for some reason, perhaps there was resentment towards he and Napoleon encroaching on his part of the world. Or was it resentment that he had abandoned Harry as his mentor, and transferred to New York?

It didn’t matter that Waverly requested Kuryakin, Harry still took personal affront to that.

“I will tell you this,” said Beldon,” every country affected has ramped up to high alert, putting security teams to back up their intelligence and law enforcement agencies. These redundancies have caused quite a disruption to the normal order or things as key people are being kept from the field, many operations world wide have come to a virtual stand still.”

“And will more than likely remain that way until we discover who’s the mystery guest behind the disappearances” Napoleon said.

“I would like one of my operatives to assist you on this investigation...Eric Lehrner,” Beldon said. “He’s been in charge of the case here and I am sure his insights will be helpful. He is my top agent and you can expect complete cooperation from him.

Kuryakin showed no reaction to the name though he knew it was the same Lehrner from his Survival School days, and the only other person to qualify for Section II besides himself from that graduating class.

Illya felt concerned about this, as there had been a definite rivalry between the two ten years ago. Eric was not a good loser but he hoped the man had matured and changed; Kuryakin’s instincts told him he probably had not.

“I will set up a meeting for you both with Mr. Lehrner first thing in the morning...in the meantime, gentlemen get yourselves settled in our guest quarters, my secretary Miss Schmidt will show you the way.”

Beldon flicked the switch on his intercom, calling his secretary into the office...she of course, caught Napoleon’s  immediate attention.  The woman was built like a proverbial hourglass, tall, golden blonde with very pouty, kissable lips.

“Guten Abend Fraülein Schmidt,” Napoleon greeted her, instantly eliciting a smile and a little giggle from her.” Mein name is Solo, Napoleon Solo.” he smiled.

“Yes I know Mr. Solo,” she batted her eyelashes at him, smiling.” Ich bin Heidi... so are you going to ask me out...I heard from Dolores in New York, you ask all the girls to go out with you.”

Illya listening in on the conversation as he followed behind the two of them, and blurted out a laugh when he heard Heidi say that.

Napoleon turned slowly, eyeing him for a second, then answered the girl’s question,”Would you like me to? He grinned at her.

“Ja, bitte?”  Heidi’s lips puckered seductively when she said please.

“Well Fraüline, when we finish up with what we have to do here, I just might do that.” He gave the tip of her upturned a gentle touch with his finger, ending the conversation as he and Illya entered their room.

Illya stood looking at his partner just shaking his head. “Can you just rein it in once in awhile?”

“Hey I’ve still got it...what can I tell you?” Napoleon laughed,” sometimes it’s like moths to a flame and just can’t be controlled.”

“It would appear so...” Illya answered, throwing his suitcase on his bed.

“You would think they would give us our own rooms in headquarters; it is not like an expense account is involved here.”

Napoleon looked at his wristwatch, checking the time.” I have to go out for a bit. I may be a little late...very late. So the room is all yours.”

“No way...Heidi? How did you...”

“No I’m meeting with Angelique.”

“And when were you going to tell me she was here in West Berlin?"

“I just did,” Napoleon grinned as he headed out the door.

 

Solo headed out into the night air, keeping a watchful eye, turning the collar of his jacket up against the chill as he walked down. It felt like it was there was snow in the air, and he chided himself for not bringing an overcoat, but then again the evening would more than likely get very much warmer; he smiled to himself.

He continued along Kürfumstendamm boulevard past the many shops, elegant boutiques, the countless restaurants of the city’s bustling shopping district all closed now except for a few cafés, as it was late. Solo finally reached his destination, the Kempinski Hotel Bristol, and heading directly to the Bristol Bar, he saw the platinum blond sitting alone at the redwood bar awaiting his arrival .

“Angelique.” he nodded with a  smile, giving her a small peck on the cheek; he then slipped onto a bar stool beside her.

“It’s about time you got here darling. Do you know how many obnoxious drunkards I had to fend off?”

Napoleon smiled, noticing the bar was virtually empty.

She handed him a glass of scotch, she drinking a vodka martini...

“Here’s to anticipation of what is to come.” she purred.

“My sentiments exactly,” he smiled looking into her eyes as the two tipped their glasses together.

“I suppose you will be wanting information first?”She sighed.

“That would be most helpful..”

“All right, this is what I’ve found out....the auction is to take place in a week's time. Representatives of countries and and organizations who are in contention with the countries of those being auctioned off will be in attendance.”

“And just exactly where is this to take place?”

“Napoleon...patience. I am getting to that.”  She slipped him a small piece of folded paper. “This is a map showing the location. It is at a small abandoned industrial complex out in the country and will take at least two hours heading north of East Berlin by car. The population is sparsely distributed so I am sure that is why the location was chosen for just that reason.”

Napoleon slipped the paper into his breast pocket, then taking another sip of his scotch.”So remind me, why you are being so helpful to us again?” He asked warily.

“Oh Napoleon, you are so all about business tonight. Quite devastating to a woman’s ego...you are being so inattentive to me,” she pouted. “Can’t you see that if you stop this thing from happening, all the missing agents, including those of T.H.R.U.S.H. will be freed.”

“And your organization is incapable of rescuing their own?”

“Oh T.H.R.U.S.H. is quite capable, but that’s not what we do. Rescue isn’t our thing.”

That told him she had an ulterior motive, one that she wasn’t willing to reveal; he decided it best not to continue with the third degree. Of course this could all be some sort of trap for he and Illya, but knowing Angelique, he realized such a thing just wasn’t her style.

Napoleon leaned over, looking into her eyes he kissed her long and passionately.

“Better?” He whispered, after nibbling on her ear.

“Much. Shall we go darling? I have a suite here in the hotel...”  

“Mmmm, sounds just right.” he leaned in kissing her again.

They headed up to Angelique’s room on the eleventh floor near the Presidential suite, offering a spectacular view of the city below, but that was not the view that Solo was interested in at the moment.

He mixed another dry martini for her, just the way she preferred it and poured himself another scotch, thinking “time to pay the piper...but oh what a pleasant piper she was.”

Napoleon swallowed the scotch and pulled Angelique into his arms, kissing her hard, then she leaned, arching her back pushing her breasts out towards him while raising her arms above her head.  Napoleon slipped her blouse up and off quickly and with one hand he undid her brassiere with a practiced flick of his fingers. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he brought his mouth to them, teasing them with his tongue.

He lifted Angelique up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the the king size bed, kissing her body as he worked his way removing the rest of her clothing.

She grabbed his shirt, intending to rip it open...”No, no” he cautioned, smiling at her.

“Silk?”

“Yes...and exploding buttons.” he whispered.

He removed the rest of his clothes and knelt looking down as Angelique spread her legs, offering herself to her enemy.

Solo took his time pleasuring her but then Angelique rolled him over. Now being on top, she could be quite aggressive.

They took full advantage of the king size bed making love numerous times throughout the night.  It was four in the morning when Napoleon finally left her sleeping; heading back to headquarters.

It had begun to lightly snow, so he hailed a taxi, deciding not to walk.

Illya was awake when Napoleon quietly entered the room.

“You are going to spare me the sordid details of your liaison and tell me what information she gave you?”

“Waiting up for me, mom?”

“Not at all, my internal alarm woke me as I had a feeling you would be rolling in around this time of the morning.”

Illya stepped from his bed, naked as a jaybird, and quickly slipped into his robe.

“The missing agents are to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.” Napoleon turned on the light next to his bed and pulled the map from his pocket unfolding it and holding it under the lamp, looking it over for the first time, before handing it to his partner.

“This is the location of the auction?”He asked, pointing to the spot marked on the map.”It is quite a remote area.”

“Or so it would seem; she told me it’s to to take place in a week. Well less than a week now as she passed me the intel last night.

“You realize she could be setting us up for a trap?” the Russian cautioned.

“That my friend goes without saying, now go back to sleep. We’ll talk more later on. I need to get some shut eye.”

“We have and eleven o’clock briefing with Eric Lerhner...Napoleon I did not mention this previously, I attended survival school with him. He may not be as cooperative as Harry has led us to believe. The man has quite an ego and may see us as invading his territory...he was overly competitive when I first met him years ago, and I suspect he has not changed. Given he is with Harry now, I suspect a man like Lehrner has fallen heavily under his influence.”

“We’ll see...” Napoleon mumbled as he crawled into bed, realizing that Illya was already asleep again. “Dammit” he thought,” how does he do that?”

 

.

Napoleon and Illya sat in a small conference room with Eric Lehrner. Solo took note of the man’s features; his air was almost white blond and he had a strong angular chin, rounded nose and piercing steel blue eyes. The perfect Aryan type. He stood at Napoleon’s height, though weighed less, seemingly a quite muscular man.

“Kuryakin...it has been a long time,” Eric spoke with a pronounced German accent.” You have done surprisingly well for yourself,  number two Section II and assistant to a CEA...I myself am CEA here.”

Illya simply agreed that it had been a long time but said nothing else in response.

“Mr. Napoleon Solo, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard quite a lot about the exploits of UNCLE’s best! “ He offered his hand in a friendly gesture.

We are not always as active an office as New York and I am sure my talents could be served best else where...perhaps you could arrange a transfer for me to New York; I would make an excellent assistant or a replacement for you when you move up to the position of Continental Chief? Perhaps you could consider this upon your return to New York?

“Perhaps.” Napoleon smiled, playing along.

Again Illya did not react to Eric’s obvious slights toward him, not giving him any sort of satisfaction. Obviously Eric had not changed one bit.

“Now how can I be of assistance to you ...Napoleon?” Harry informed me that you are here to work on the case regarding the recent disappearances?”

“Yes. I have obtained information recently indicating that these kidnap victims are to be auctioned off to the highest bidder in less than a week. This could have devastating affects on the security of the governments of the countries involved.”

“I had not heard of this in my investigations...what is your source?”

“Sorry, that is confidential and can’t be revealed.” Napoleon said.

“Then may I ask, is it a reliable source?”

“Yes” Napoleon spoke seriously,” It is a source that I have taken advantage of before and it is a very, very good one.”

Illya hid a smile, scratching his nose with his fingers.

“We’re going to need a cover to cross over into East Berlin, as the location is approximately 160 km. north out of the city. And a reliable car as well,”Solo continued.

“Fine, no problem. You are going to include me in the operation of course; it is only fair as it is originally my case, and you will need someone who knows the lay of the land.”

Illya said nothing, even though he was quite familiar with East Berlin and the surrounding districts from his days in the GRU. He still maintained a few contacts in the area as well.

Napoleon glanced at his partner for any signs of rejection, but received none. “All right Eric, fair is fair. You’re in.”

“Ausgezeichnet, danke...excellent, thank you!” Eric smiled. He was well aware that both Solo and Kuryakin were fluent in German, but still he gave a translation.

”Give me an hour or so to organize our cover...in the meantime have some lunch in the dining room, They are serving mushroom stuffed Rouladen with spätzle and winter vegetables and I assure you our chef is quite talented. Now if you will excuse me I will see to the details of the mission.”

They headed to the Berlin equivalent of the commissary, though more cozy and less sterile than the one in New York.

Illya spoke as they dug into the Rouladen.”Why do we not have food such as this in New York?” He paused; savoring the flavor for a moment.”This is excellent.

“Napoleon chuckled; if his partner who would eat just about anything said it was good, then it had to be better than good.

“We’d have to get rid of Charlie aka ‘Cookie’ first.” Napoleon remarked,” the man thinks he’s still cooking for the troops in Korea. I have never seen Waverly step one foot near the Commissary and I wonder if he knows how bad it can be?”

“How could he,” Illya smiled,” his meals are brought in by private caterer.”

“Ah rank hath its privileges.” Solo said, finishing the last of his meal.

An hour later  they were back at Lerhner’s office looking at sets of black religious robes hanging on a rack. He handed Napoleon and Illya  diplomatic passports from the Vatican.

You Napoleon are Bishop Carlo Simonelli attaché to the Holy See, and you Kuryakin are merely secretary to the Bishop, named Pavel Kaczynski from Poland, “Another dig at Illya.” Solo thought.

“I am Franz Müller your assistant, Napoleon. We will be travelling with these documents,” he said handing them to Solo. “They are our instructions from the Vatican to visit Monsignor Clemens Renner the pastor of St. Hedwig's. He has been ill and may be retiring soon. We will be traveling as the Vatican envoy to discuss this retirement.”

Napoleon was eyeing the Bishop’s black cassock, trimmed in violet, and having an integrated shoulder cape, different from the simple black cassocks that Illya and Eric would wear.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a less obvious cover?” Solo asked, picking up the violet fascia and skull cap. He was familiar with the non-liturgical vestments, having been raised Catholic.

“This will actually allow us easy travel as the border has become accustomed to to frequent crossings by Roman Catholic clergy and seems to tolerate them.” Eric said, ”The Berlin Diocese never adjusted its boundaries after the wall went up and still refuses to participate in State Ceremonies on the Eastern side of the Wall. The church has provided us with a Mercedes bearing the Vatican insignia and diplomatic flags.”

“KGB will be watching us.” Illya suddenly spoke,” they have a particular aversion to the Catholic Church because thanks to a certain priest named Father Karol Wojtyla who has quite a contentious relationship with KGB back in Poland. In their eyes every priest is suspect.”

“We will travel directly to St. Hedwig’s Cathedral, exactly where we say we are going. I am sure they will not think of us as anything significant at that point.” Lehrner said.

Illya knew better and decided to discuss otherwise with Napoleon once they were away from Eric. The man’s continued insults and innuendos were not lost on him, and there was something about Eric that made the Russian not trust him completely.

They brought the vestments up to their room, slipping them on over their street clothes. Their specials would be well hidden, but they would not have quick access to them and that being the case, they both strapped on their back up pistols to ankle holsters.

Napoleon stood in front of a full length mirror as he wrapped and straightened the violet sash around his waist, he placed the purple zucchetto on his head, lastly he placed the large pectoral cross over his head, letting it drape across his chest. He stepped back straightening the short black cape on his shoulders...

“God if my mother could see me now? he smiled, “ I think she always wanted me to be a priest.”

“You a priest?” Illya smiled,” Heaven forbid.” Illya slipped on the the black priest’s cassock, placing a black sash around his waist, The clothing made him look thinner and his boyish features made him appear even younger.

Solo looked at his partner.”Well at least it’s your favorite color?”

“Black is the absence of color Napoleon and therefore not a color but yes, you are correct I do prefer black. One does not have to worry about making things match when dressing.”

“Then what’s your excuse for that awful burgundy blazer of yours?”

Illya ignored the remark. “ I do not think I am comfortable letting Eric lead us around once we cross the first checkpoint. I am very familiar with East Berlin. I think we need to maintain control. As far as KGB is concerned, I think Eric is incorrect in his assumption; they will stay with us, unless we lose them. I have several contacts in East Berlin that I have maintained over the years and we can use their help getting out of the city.”

“You were correct about Lehrner, he’s got an ego all right and is definitely ambitious.” Napoleon said.”We’ll have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t step out of line.”

“Bishop Simonelli and Father Kaminski  were joined by Eric Lehrner, now in character as Father Franz Müller; they headed down to the the secure garage level and the agent in charge tossed the keys toward Lehrner, but Illya reached out catching them himself. “I will drive.”

Lerhner looked indignant. “Are you sure you know the way?”

“Eric, I was working in East Berlin for GRU before you even dreamt of joining UNCLE.” Illya snapped at him; Lehrner’s digs were finally getting under his skin.

“Oh well, then that is good then, as secretary to the Bishop yours is the more menial roll, so you should be the driver.”

Napoleon watched as his partner’s jaw tightened, and readied himself for the Russian to take a swing at the German, but Illya resisted the urge and simply got in behind the wheel of the car.

The Mercedes pulled out slowly from the garage heading up Kurfüstendamm Boulevard in the direction of Brandenburger Tor, the German name for the Brandenburg Gate which was less than a mile from headquarters. Then Illya turned onto Strasse des 17 Juni driving through Tiergarten Park  around the street circle past the towering statue of Siegessäule, the statue of victory with it’s red granite base and golden winged statue of Victoria. Berliners had a nickname for her...”Goldelse,” roughly meaning “Golden Lizzy.”

And then they neared the Brandenburg Gate, modeled after the Greek Acropolis with the imposing statue of Eirene, the goddess of peace...a winged woman driving a chariot drawn by four horses loomed over all who approached the Tor.

The presence of the “Die Mauer...the Wall” its 124 mile length was omnipresent like a jagged scar across the city. Covered with garish graffiti on the Western side as people could walk right up to it... on the Eastern side it was studded by guard towers and gun placements. There was barbed wire everywhere and an armored water cannon vehicle sat before the gate, it’s turrets directed at the western side.

Illya pulled the car up slowly to the checkpoint and stopped, putting it in park. He handed their papers and travel documents to the armed soldier who eyeballed each of them. Walking away with their documents, the soldier showed them to a unusually tall man wearing a brown leather jacket and brimmed cap; he  looked back at them sitting in the car.

“KGB,” Whispered Kuryakin.

The soldier returned, handing their paperwork back to Kuryakin.

“You can move on now Father,” the man said in Polish waving them forward.

“Thank you my son.” Father Kaminski answered, speaking Polish as well.

Illya put the car into gear, slowly pulling away as the three agents breathed a collective sigh, but they weren’t home free yet as they still had to pass other checkpoints. Illya glanced in the rear view mirror.

”Do not look now, but we have company.” he said, seeing a dark colored BMW pulling up behind the Mercedes; it had not been in line at the checkpoint.

The last thing they saw before passing through the gate was a large white sign.

**“ACHTUNG! Sie verlassen jetzt WEST-BERLIN!”**

Warning that if you pass this place, then you leave West Berlin.

They had now entered into East Berlin, a city where spies flourished, there information and disinformation flowed like the Danube.

To Illya Kuryakin, this was possibly the most sordid place in the veiled world of the spy game. It was the city of illusion and deceit, filled with spooks and now they were within its grasp.

As they headed into the city Illya thought back about his time spent with Beldon, both here and in London. Granted, he did teach him a few things but Illya realized Beldon was using him, manipulating and grooming him to be a mirror image of himself.

His ways were not Illya’s and once Kuryakin realized this, he knew it was time to go.  Harry was a lecherous, lascivious, gluttonous and egotistical lush. Yet in spite of all that, the man somehow managed to be a successful agent.  Despite that success, Illya wanted no part of Harry and his ways.

The smartest thing he had done was to get out from underneath the controlling thumb of the man. Still there were times he wondered what exactly was Harry Beldon up to?

With the Summit coming up in the not too distant future, he hoped his concerns about Harry had nothing to do with the meeting of all the Continental Chiefs of the U.N.C.L.E.

While driving, Illya’s mind drifted to when he’d first met Harry Beldon…

_He walked down the ramp from the Aeroflot jet, stepping to the tarmac of Heathrow airport. He was already familiar with it from his time spent in England while studying at Cambridge, and functioning as a spy for the Soviet Union as well._

_He carried only a small suitcase with him as most of the few things he owned, clothing, books, records and an old guitar, he had left in storage in London before his return to Moskva. Illya did it, trying to think positively that he was going to come back from the U.S.S.R. and not up in  prison or one of the gulags._

_The disposition of his meager belongings was not high on his list of concerns while worrying about the possibility of internment in the Soviet prison system._

_His return to England had given him an unexpected boon as he was now an agent in training for an international agency called U.N.C.L.E. Still in spite of the reassurances of the man who had recruited him, he felt he’d been offered up to as a ‘sacrificial lamb,’ by his superiors at GRU. *_

_The man, Alexander Waverly had told him to prove it otherwise to his former superiors at GRU, and that gave him some sense of hope in this total upheaval of his life. He as no longer a Soviet agent and he no longer had a home. Russia was a thing of his past..._

_He’d been told his things had been moved from storage to a small flat that U.N.C.L.E had arranged for him. That matter having been settled with no effort on his part left him now only to consider the remaining after effects of his hangover from the night before. He’d finished off a bottle of vodka, while bidding farewell to his home.  Chances were he’d never see it again, not that he had anyone there. All his family was dead and he had no friends.  Life in military intelligence had seen to that._

_With the help of some aspirin tablets and copious amounts of water; the symptoms of his hangover had all but disappeared and he swore that he would not let his feelings or vodka get the better of him again!_

_He thought about the flat that he would live in; having discovered that certain agents, specifically Sections II to be precise, were given such accommodations as they were in the field frequently enough that keeping up with rent and so forth became problematic. UNCLE solved that issue by becoming both employer and landlord. Given he was starting out as Section III, a lower level of agents, he was surprised he’d been afforded his own place, with no rent to pay._

_U.N.C.L.E, apparently was also in the real-estate business, owning their own apartment buildings to house their select agents. Given his experience with Soviet intelligence; he wondered if they bugged their agents abodes as well, keeping them under surveillance as had his previous employer._

_He walked into the airport terminal, stopping a newsstand to purchase a copy of the London Times newspaper, and then waited for his contact to arrive._

_People came and went buying their magazines and papers and other sundries, but still no one approached him with the pass phrase._

_Illya began to get a little nervous._

_Finally a half hour later a man, handsomely attired in a suit and hat, approached the counter purchasing a packet of cigarettes.”  Mumbling..._

_“I remembered when these cost one rupee.”_

_He recognizing the code, responded. “But tomorrow they could cost a two francs.”_

_“Welcome back to England Mr. Kuryakin,” the man smiled at him,” I am Harry Beldon, Station Chief of the London office” he said, tipping his impressive  ushanka style hat to reveal a completely shaved head._

_Illya nodded in acknowledgement to him;  taking mental note that Beldon had an accent, Slavic he guessed._

_“I have a car waiting, if you will please follow me?” said Beldon._

_He led Kuryakin to a black sedan waiting with a driver, parked at the_

_curbside in front of the terminal. The driver tried to take his suitcase, but Illya refused to release it._

_” Roit, suit yerself mate;” the driver mumbled, giving him the “stink-eye.”_

_The Russian was reserved and remained quiet as he sat next to Beldon in the back seat of the sedan._

_”Would you prefer to go to your flat to freshen up or to go directly to headquarters?” Beldon asked him._

_“Headquarters please?” he answered.” I wish to begin my training immediately, sir”_

_Beldon laughed...”None of this ‘sir’ nonsense if you please... call me Harry.” He reached to the side door and opened a mini- bar, offering Illya a vodka._

_“Uhod z napitok?” Beldon asked him in Russian._

_Illya felt his stomach tighten at the thought and declined the offer with a wave of his hand. ”Spasibo...nyet, umm thank you... no drink for me.”_

_“Ah! To work already? All work and no play can make Illya a dull boy!” Beldon smiled at him with a wink.”You will find young man, if you just let yourself consider the possibilities that life here in the west can be most comfortable, certainly more so than your life in the Soviet Union had ever been; you will be quite happy here.”_

_“Happiness was not a consideration, “ Illya thought as he was coming to the U.N.C.L.E. to do a job and was not in search of some karmic form of happiness.  Illya ignored Beldon’s words but asked him a question instead._

_”Why did you wait before contacting me at the terminal?”_

_“Very good Mr. Kuryakin. Observant...patient. Perhaps I was just standing back to watch you and nothing more?”_

_Illya suddenly asked, ” You are Slavic are you not, yet Harry Beldon is not a Slavic name.”_

_He hesitated...”Most people cannot pick that up from my accent, also very good Mr. Kuryakin. My full name is Henryk Beldonski... I was raised in  Krakow.”_

_Illya made note, too much personal information being offered.”And the man does not even know me? Are all these U.N.C.L.E. people this foolish?” He wondered what he would truly be able to learn from Beldon._

_Illya was taken to London headquarters and walking through its simple grey halls; he was impressed by the sleek orderly appearance, not having a trace of the bourgeois trappings that he had expected... that was until he was escorted into Harry Beldon’s office, which looked to be the epitome of decadence._

_The room was filled with antiques, marble Grecian statues, paintings as well as over-sized plants and Beldon had a personal steam room adjoining his office where Illya was later sure where one of the many women that seemed to grace the man’s arms no doubt met him for their assignations._

_The Russian was simply amazed that the man was able to function in the espionage arena as successfully as he had heard the man did. Illya had done some research of his own on Harry Beldon..._

_And so, in spite of the outrageous personality and tastes of Harry Beldon;  Illya Kuryakin began to settle in to learning ways of his new employer. He had been told by Alexander Waverly that he would not at present attend their field training session at a place called  ‘Survival Island,’ and was just to follow Beldon’s lead..._

_Illya learned to distinguish what was important and well as what to glean from the teachings Beldon. It became obvious to the Russian that Harry had his own idea, and he did not appreciate being caught up in it.  Beldon was grooming him for something, and likened Illya to his protegé, but finally Kuryakin put his foot down and refused to be manipulated by Harry any longer._

_Three years passed, after requesting a transfer Kuryakin finally got his wish and was moved to headquarters in New.  Once he’d completed the now mandatory session at Survival School, which Waverly had put off to the last possible moment; Illya began the latest chapter in the new book of his life that began the moment he became an agent of The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. It was a new chapter that held many things in store for him …_

_‘Survival School,* “Illya mumbled to himself as a reminder of who sat in the back of the Mercedes with Napoleon._

_He_ shook himself of his thoughts; it was time to concentrate on the present and not the past. He and Napoleon were to find out what was happening to the missing agents…and watching Eric Lehrner as well, like a hawk.  

He’d become Harry’s new protegé, and had completely embraced Beldon’s arrogant philosophies… that told Kuryakin to trust his instincts with this man.

 

.

* ref.[ “First Kill”](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6758034/1/First-Kill)

 

** ref [“The Survival School Affair”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11576739)

 

The[ East Berlin Affair"](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6841779/1/The-East-Berlin-Affair) at the moment Chapter 2 doesn't have this updated version. Problems with updating on the hosting site. Sorry


End file.
